Lost and Found

Lost and Found

Tommy opened his eyes to the sound of his mother’s footsteps coming down the hall. He knew that stride. That was her, “I’m-not-really-thrilled-with-you-right-now” walk. If knew what was good for him, he’d jump out of bed right now and show her he was already up and halfway ready for school.

Tommy rolled over. The nice thing about being 10, he thought, is that I don’t have to do what’s good for me. So Tommy’s back was to the door when his mother threw it open and used her Minnesota voice to say sternly, “Tommy, it’s time ya got up. You’ll be late – again.” Her Minnesota voice came out when she was frustrated and reverted back to her hometown accent. Most of the time she spoke with an eloquence that belied her humble upbringing. Tommy knew she was serious when she spoke to him that way. He sighed and pulled the cover over his head.

Outside it was already getting steamy. Tommy rolled over and looked out the window. The heat had been unbearable the last couple of days. Soccer practice was a nightmare. Besides trying to run in the 110-degree heat, the flies and gnats had gone to town on his ankles. It got so bad that Tommy, who played goalie, just decided to sit down, right there between the goal posts. His coach had come running over.

“What are you doing?” he shouted at Tommy. “You’re the goalie! Stand up and protect the goal!”

Tommy waved his hands at the coach. “Meh, the team is all the way at the other end of the field. When they get over here, I’ll stand up.” And he fell backwards into the grass, squinting under the hot sun.

“Tommy!” yelled his mom from downstairs. “Dontcha wanna go on your field trip? It’s the big hiking trip up the canyon!”

“Oh yeah,” Tommy thought. “I do want to go on that trip.”

He sat up in bed and scratched himself all over. Then he stood and went to his dresser. He opened the top drawer and foraged through the rumpled items inside until he pulled out a pair of wrinkled boxers. He left the drawer open and pulled on the next drawer until further out from the top one. He thrust his hand in and felt around. Where was his blue polo? Normally Fridays were free dress, but since they were going on a field trip they were supposed to wear their school uniforms: blue polo shirt and navy shorts. His teacher had made a point of emphasizing that – no uniform, no field trip.

He felt around inside the drawer some more, going deep in until he hit bottom. Then he inched his arm forward, extending to the back wall of the drawer. All he could feel were soccer jerseys and pajama tops.

“Mom!” Tommy bellowed. “Have you seen my shirt?”

“Tommy, I have seen nothing BUT your shirts—in the bathroom, in the car, on the floor. I’d like to see YOU in your shirt down here for your breakfast. Your sister is already ready to go.”

Tommy extracted his arm and walked out of his room to the top of the stairs. He stripped off his t-shirt and stood there in his pajama pants. He threw the t-shirt on the ground and pounded on his bare belly. Tommy’s pants were all labeled husky and he was often called “stocky.” He didn’t know what that meant, but he liked to inhale and exhale and watch his belly rise and fall over the waistband of his pants. He started doing that now. Wait, what was he supposed to be doing? Oh, yes. Breakfast. .

“Mom, I can’t find my shirt or my shorts, and I HAVE to wear a uniform or I won’t get to go on the field trip.”

He waited.

If Minnesota-voice from Mom was DEFCON 3, then silence from Mom was DEFCON 4. He waited some more. Silence.

“MOM!”

“Tommy, if you don’t have the sense to put away the clothes I’ve washed for you, then I can’t help you! You have exactly 7 minutes and then we’re leaving for school – with or without you!”

Tommy tromped down the stairs. He was still holding his boxers, so when he got to the laundry room he put them on his head and started pulling apart the piles of folded clothes that were stacked neatly on the dryer. He found his favorite sweatshirt, his soccer socks, and a white undershirt, but no polo and no shorts.

“Mom, they’re not in here. What am I going to do?”

He came into the kitchen, where his mom was wrapping a waffle in a napkin and putting it into a brown paper sack lunch. “You’ll have to eat this on the way,” she said.

She looked up at Tommy still wearing his boxers on his head, and opened her mouth to speak but then thought better of it.

“I’ve looked everywhere!”

“Well, you’ll just have to find some alternative,” she said. “Now hurry up!”

Tommy stomped up the stairs. He went back to his closet and opened the doors, pushing and pulling them through a barricade of Legos, board games, and his backpack (whose contents were spilling out all over the floor).

“Uniform, uniform,” he muttered. “What could pass for a uniform?” One by one he pulled items off their hangers, examined them, and tossed them aside: a parka, a sweater vest, a raincoat. He might have been able to get away with that if they weren’t in the middle of a heatwave.

Defeated, he stared at the pile, and made one final survey of the closet.

“Tommy!” his mom was screaming from the open window of the van. “I’m leaving NOW.”

The front door opened and Tommy emerged, dressed in a blazer with a crest, navy wool pants, a white oxford, and a red and blue striped tie slung around his neck. Tommy ran around to his side of the van and pulled open the sliding door. He climbed in, his waffle clenched in his teeth, his sack lunch wadded up in his hand.

“What on Earth are you wearing? How do you expect to go hiking in that?”

Tommy bit the waffle through, then buckled his seatbelt. “The teacher said we had to wear a uniform. This is our dress uniform, so she has to count it.”

Tommy’s mom closed her eyes and silently counted to 5, slowly. “Tommy, so help me, if you ruin those good pants or get that jacket torn…” Then she looked at the clock and let out a long sigh. She put the car into gear. “Ok, let’s roll,” she said.

Tommy strutted into the classroom and the mutterings of the other boys desisted as they looked him up and down, snickering a little.

“Why are you so dressed up?” asked Austin, Tommy’s best friend.

“It’s a uniform,” replied Tommy, shrugging, wiping the trickle of sweat that was creeping behind his ear. “Ms. Forester has to let me go.”

“But what about your regular uniform?”

Tommy straightened his tie. “I think it’s a good idea to show respect for nature.”

Austin shrugged and let it go. “Ok,” he said.

The bell rang and Ms. Forester entered the room. “Ok, everyone, settle down please. Now, I have everyone’s permission slip, so…Tommy? What are you wearing?”

“A uniform.”

“Don’t you think you might be a little uncomfortable on a hike in that jacket?”

“I’m cool Ms. F.”

Ms. Forester took a deep breath, imagining the scene that had gone on at Tommy’s house that morning. “Ok, then let's take roll and get ready to line up at the bus.”

Ms. Forester picked up her roster and scanned the room with her eyes. “Caitlyn? Is Caitlyn absent?”

“She’s in the bathroom,” said Maddie.

Ms. Forester nodded and continued taking roll. When she finished, she began dismissing the children, one table at a time, until they were all squirming in a disorganized line at the door. Ms. Forester let them out single file and closed and locked the door behind them. She tapped Maddie on the shoulder.

“Please go check on Caitlyn and make sure she meets us at the bus.”

Maddie nodded and bolted out of line towards the girls’ bathroom. She got to the door and pushed on it so it opened just a few inches. “Caitlyn?” she called in. “We’re going to the bus.”

“Oh my gosh, is that Maddie?”

“Yes.”

“Come in, quick!”

Maddie pushed harder on the door until it opened wide enough for her to slip inside.

“What’s wrong?” It wasn’t like Caitlyn to be flustered. She was the top student in the grade, good at everything, and despite being stick-thin, she was the fastest runner and strongest kicker on the soccer field. She was also the class president.

“I forgot that we had to wear our uniforms today!” Caitlyn’s voice was shaking, but she was in a stall with the door closed, so Maddie couldn’t see her. “So I ran to the lost and found box and pulled out the first shirt and shorts I could find.”

“That was a good idea,” said Maddie, genuinely impressed.

“No, it wasn’t,” whined Caitlyn. “They’re huge!”

She threw open the stall door and Maddie had to bite the inside of her cheek to suppress the involuntary giggle that bubbled up her throat. Caitlyn was wearing shorts that went down past her knees, and which were barely hanging on above her hips. The waistband was perilously close to falling down around her ankles, despite the fact that she had almost folded it over on itself and was holding the fabric balled up in her fist. Draped over the dark blue shorts was a light blue polo shirt that hung like a sack over her shoulders. She literally looked like she had been hit with a shrink ray, while her clothes had not.

“Weren’t there any other clothes in there?” asked Maddie.

“They were all the same, and then I had to stop looking because the Mother’s Guild lady picked up the box to take to the used uniform sale!” Caitlyn was on the verge of tears. “What am I going to do?”

“Ok, take my belt,” said Maddie, quickly unbuckling it and slipping it out of the loops on her own shorts. “And you can use my hair tie for your shirt.” Maddie always carried an extra hair band around her wrist, just in case her hair bothered her or her friends decided on an impromptu game of dodge ball.

“What? How?” Caitlyn whimpered.

“Here, look,” Maddie came closer and tugged on the bottom corners of the shirt. Then she brought them together till they met at Caitlyn’s middle, and wrapped the elastic around it like a knot, keeping the ends in place. She stood back to examine her design, and cocked her head approvingly. “That works,” she decided.

Caitlyn pulled the belt through the loops in the shorts, but there was still about eight inches of excess fabric. The two girls tugged and pulled, trying to distribute the extra bulk as evenly as possible around her waist. Finally, they agreed it was the best they could do.

They walked together to the bus where their classmates were already starting to board. Caitlyn and Maddie ran to the back of the line and quickly ascended before Ms. Forester could get too close a look. By the time Ms. Forester was counting the heads in the seats, Caitlyn was safely smushed against the window near enough to the back so that her uniform infractions weren’t at all visible behind the seatback of the row in front of her. As the bus pulled out, Maddie had been able to make Caitlyn laugh and forget being self-conscious.

The field trip began with an introduction by the ranger to the native plants and a review of trail safety rules. Tommy started to squirm uncomfortably as the morning sun warmed the wool in his pants. He loosened his tie and took off his jacket. He started walking back towards the bus, but Ms. Forester stopped him,

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked.

“I’m going to leave my jacket on the bus,” he said.

Ms. Forester shook her head. “I’m sorry, Tommy, but the bus has already left.”

Tommy looked towards the parking lot of the nature preserve and dropped his head. He let out a large sign. Not knowing what to do with the jacket, he folded it in half at the waist and tied the sleeves around his middle. Then he rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, but he still felt the sweat ball up at his temple and slowly make its way down, slipping under the neckband of his shirt and tumbling across his back.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable she was. Her shirt was billowing around her with each little breeze, and she felt cooled by the ventilation. The baggy long shorts were protecting her knees and allowing fewer opportunities for biting mosquitoes to feast.

The hike began and took the class halfway up the canyon before they stopped for lunch.

Caitlyn and Maddie, being competitive and athletic, had led the pack and reached the picnic area ahead of most of the group. Ms. Forester asked them to help distribute the sack lunches, which she had collected from the children on the bus.

Caitlyn was looking around for Tommy, who was arriving much later than the others. He was still a couple hundred yards away, so she ran back down the trail to bring his lunch to him.

“Here you go, Tommy,” she said. She looked him up and down. He was disheveled, the tip of his tie peeking out from his pants pocket. His jacket was covered with dust and his shirt was completely untucked. Caitlyn only judged him a little bit. She was accustomed to seeing similar “looks” from Tommy.

Tommy wiped his forehead with his sleeve before taking the lunch from her. She started to turn, and he glanced at her, then stopped and shouted, “Hey! That’s my shirt!”

Caitlyn spun around. “What?”

Tommy marched towards her and reached up to her neck. She started to recoil but he reached behind her head and yanked hard on the tag that was showing itself above her collar. He twisted the neck of the shirt forward so she could see it. “See?” he said.

Caitlyn, caught in Tommy’s awkward hold, contorted her neck and looked down her nose to read the tag. It said “TOMMY SPARKS.”

“Oh,” she said, relieved. “That’s why it’s so big!”

“Why are you wearing my shirt?”

“It was in the lost and found box. I forgot to wear my uniform today, so I went to the lost and found box. There were, like, a hundred shirts like this in there.”

Tommy released the tag and smacked his forehead. Of course! The lost and found box! Why hadn’t he checked there?

“Phew,” he said. “Now I know where all my shirts are! I can get them after school.”

“No, you can’t,” said Caitlyn.

“Why not? Did you take more of them?”

“Tch, no,” smirked Caitlyn. “The box is empty. The Mother’s Guild took it to the used uniform sale. If you want your shirts back, you’ll have to buy them back.”

Tommy’s mind began making a mental montage of the past month. How did all his shirts end up in lost and found? He pictured himself changing for soccer practice. He took off his uniform shirt, put it on the bench, and then put on his jersey. Then after practice, he just went home in his jersey. Why didn’t his shirt make it to his backpack?

He pictured him and his friends playing basketball after school. In a choice of shirts versus skins, Tommy always chose skins. What had happened to those shirts?

He saw himself going to Austin’s house after school to go swimming. To save time, he had changed into his swim trunks in the boys’ bathroom after school. When they arrived at Austin’s house, the two of them jumped out of the car, raced right to the pool, and did a dual cannon ball into the deep end. Had he left that shirt on the bathroom floor? Gross.

By the time the field trip had ended, the dirt on Tommy’s clothes had so deeply embedded itself into the fibers, it threatened to live there permanently despite any amount of scrubbing that might occur. When he met his mom in the carpool line, she took one look at his suit and went straight to DEFCON 4.

“Guess what?” Tommy smiled, scrambling into the van.

His mom used only her eyes and the rearview mirror to respond.

“I think I found where all my shirts are!”

The following weekend, Austin was riding his bike past Tommy’s house when he came upon Tommy trimming the hedges and raking the front yard. “Hey Tommy,” said Austin. “Want to come over?”

Tommy looked down. “I can’t,” he mumbled.

“Why not?”

“I have to do enough chores to earn the money to buy back all my school shirts from the used uniform sale,” he said. “My mom said it’s the only way I’ll learn to put my things away.”

Austin nodded and rode away. Tommy went back to raking the leaves.

As the sun was going down and the sky was darkening, Tommy’s mom called from the house. “Tommy, put the rake away and come in for dinner. I ordered in.”

“Oh boy!” shouted Tommy. He dropped the rake into the pile of leaves and took off his shirt, which was now drenched with sweat and dirt. He threw it on top of the rake and started to run into the house, then stopped. He looked back.

“What am I forgetting?” he thought.

“Tommy! Dinner! Now!”

Oh well, he shrugged, and ran into the house.